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Many years ago—perhaps seven or eight—I found myself drawn to the mystical and spiritual topics, seeking answers. My curiosity led me to a medium, a woman who seemed to peer into the unseen threads of existence. She uncovered truths about me that still resonate deeply today, as if her insight reached into the timeless core of my being. Yet, there was one revelation that left me shaken: she sensed a presence with me, a spirit or energy, but its nature remained elusive—something she couldn’t quite discern. The mystery lingered, haunting my thoughts all this years.
I visited a shaman in Mexico City this year. He took my hands, looked at them, touched my feet, and gazed profoundly into my eyes. He spoke words I will never forget, helped me breathe better. His entire ritual was profound and transformative. He told me I am —from an ancient tribe. This struck a chord within me, as I’ve always believed my mother’s lineage connects us to Native Indian roots. The shaman revealed that my spirit is not of this world, but it watches over me, protecting me and giving me strength to stand firm in life’s trials.
These experiences have woven together a tapestry of wonder and self-discovery, leaving me with the sense that I walk on the edge of two worlds—the tangible and the mystical—guided by forces both unseen and eternal.
But I still wonder who he is, what's his name?
25/03/25 00:20
